In the Copse of the Dog King

queer fantasy musical

excerpt

Scene 8. He plays. The Moon is Waning Crescent.

—

[The Dog-King enters, circles Marny cautiously.]

MARNY

You wonder at the voice you heard. Well, don’t wonder. I can duplicate my voice at will. I can reproduce instruments with the mere sound of my voice. I have been withholding this from you in the hopes that I might appeal to your humanity—

[He pounces, not tackling her but knocking her down.]

—that you might see the pain you have caused by virtue of my countenance alone. Since your cruelty is seemingly endless, I am reduced to reproducing magical tricks for your despotic amusement.

[He continues advancing]

[not frightened] You may have the mind of a man but you have the heart of a dog. You don’t want to hurt me.

[He stops]

Come here. [She opens her arms and waits for him to sit with her. He does, but does not embrace her.] You’re nervous. Afraid that Elizabeth is going to come and take me away. I could have already left with her, you know.
Well, I couldn’t have gotten far even if I tried.

[He nudges her wound, an apology.]

I know. It’s okay. You were just nervous. How long have you been out here?

[No response.]

You spoke before, I know you can.

[No response.]

I was telling the elf, before, that I can tell about kinds of silences. Music is as much silence as it is sound. You aren’t mute because you’re unwilling—it hurts you to speak. You prefer to speak as a dog would, if you must. Is that right?

[He moves closer to her. They’re touching now.

She begins to scratch his head, which he seems to like.]

Is this all you needed? All that anger and howling and just for a good cuddle. You’re a silly dog. A foolish man.

[He sniffs]

Oh, you don’t think so? [She takes a stick from nearby, and shakes it at him] You see this stick? Do you want it?

[He follows it with his head, gradually becoming more interested]

It’s just a stick, just a plain old stick. Don’t you want it? It’s right here, come on. Come on. Go get it, boy!

[She feigns throwing the stick across the stage, but hides it behind her back, and he dashes after it on all fours.

After a brief moment of searching, when he realizes it is not there, he stands and turns to her, and she produces it from behind her back.]

That’s all you want. Something to chase after, howl after. A simple thing, it doesn’t matter what.
Do you want the stick?

[He moves toward her as if to grab it from her, but she throws it backstage.

He runs after it.]